


The Conquerer

by ohmytheon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone very unique has come to conquer the Vale, but Sansa Stark is not afraid to greet them head on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Conquerer

When she saw him that first time, riding up to the Bloody Gate in front of a large garrison, she felt a certain sort of disdain for him. _Like father, like son, of course._ She rushed back to the safety of the Eyrie, confident that it could not be taken – but unsure if that was a good thing. After passing through the Gate of the Moon, she made her way to the goat trail so that she could return to the castle.

“He’s just another bastard,” she told Mya on their way up on the mules.  Her eyes quickly shot to the dark-haired girl. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a bastard.”

Mya just smirked though, completely unfazed. “Of course not, _Alayne_.”

Sansa blushed prettily, but smiled back in return. It hadn’t taken Mya long to figure out that Sansa was no mere baseborn bastard child of the new Lord Protector of the Vale, but she’d waited for Sansa to confess it to her before admitting she already knew. Mya was mart like that; and Sansa trusted Mya with her life. It had been Mya who had told Sansa about the garrison fighting its way through the Vale to the Eyrie; and it had been Mya who had helped Sansa sneak out to see it for herself.

“You don’t think anything will come of this, do you?” Sansa asked once they reached the top. “I mean, the Eyrie is impregnable.”

“So everyone says,” Mya simply replied.

Sansa gave her an alarmed look. “What does that mean? The Eyrie has never been taken. Everyone knows that. Besides, the Iron Throne is backing the Vale. We’re under their protection.”

“He’s a Baratheon,” Mya explained with a shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve got a habit of conquering where others have failed.” When Sansa sat down, a troubled and distant look on her face, Mya bent to her knees and took the younger girl’s hands in hers. “You need not worry, Sansa. No harm will come to you. Perhaps…” She looked around, making sure they were alone, and leaned forward. “Perhaps you will finally be free.”

“Those are dangerous words, Mya,” Sansa warned. “If anyone were to hear you–”

“Let them,” Mya interrupted fiercely. “You are a woman grown, a princess, not a caged [bird](http://ohmytheon.tumblr.com/post/36846582524/the-conqueror) he can keep as a pet.”

“Lord Baelish saved me,” Sansa reminded her gently. “I would be dead at Lannister hands if not for his kindness and foresight.”

Mya shook her head and stood up straight. “Taking you from one prison only to place you in another is not saving you.” She frowned. “Sometimes I worry that you’re beginning to believe your own lies.”

“Think of it this way,” Sansa said as she stood up as well. “If not for him, we would never have met or become friends.”

Despite rolling her eyes, there was a faint smile on Mya’s face. “Well there’s one thing I can be grateful to him for.” A horn from below made both girls look down the path and into the snow. “Come, let’s get you back to the safety of the castle before Lord Baelish begins to worry you’ve escaped.”

Everything was kept so casual for the next few weeks. The only difference was that Sansa was confined to the castle and there weren’t any visitors. It was just her, Petyr, and the servants.  Petyr told her that it was for nothing, mostly just a formality and a precaution, but she saw little of Petyr and even less of Mya Stone. She heard noises outside of the castle, but she couldn’t see anything when she looked out the windows. The snow made it too difficult for her to see much of anything but white.

In the last two days, however, things changed. Petyr locked her in her bedroom and told her not to leave unless he himself came for her. Though he tried to hide it, she could see how nervous he was. Those two days were some of the longest of her life. She was given food to last her, but she could barely touch it. All she could think about were those days in King’s Landing when she and Jeyne Poole had been locked away in her bedroom following her father’s arrest. The memories made her feel wild; and she paced the room, felt the door, and angrily tossed her pillows around.

She wasn’t a little girl anymore; and she certainly wasn’t foolish or ignorant. Petyr had opened her eyes to the world even more than Joffrey’s cruelty. She thought of the boy riding to the Moon Gate, his ease and confidence, his dark hair and hard eyes. The more she thought about them, the more she was reminded of Mya. No, she knew what was going on; and it infuriated her that she’d been locked away, even if it was for her own safety. She wished Mya was here now more than anything and worried for her. The girl would fight if provoked, no doubt.

It was in the middle of the second night when she was startled awake by a cry and shout. She crawled out of bed and tiptoed over ot the door. The second her fingertips touched the wood, the whole door shook. She let out a quiet yelp and jumped back. The shouts behind the door rang in her head as she slowly backed away and felt like hours, one arm wrapped around her knees and another clutching a dagger under her pillow. Mya had given her the dagger two years ago, but she’d never had to use it before. She’d never really felt the urge to until now; and that was what truly scared her. She sat there forever, almost drifting back off to sleep after things quieted down outside.

Without warning, her door burst open and Sansa jerked the dagger in front of her protectively, her heart leaping into her throat. “Get away!”

“Sansa, it’s me!” the intruder announced, throwing their hood back to reveal Mya. Sansa immediately dropped her dagger and scrambled off the bed, throwing her arms around her friend and hugging her. “You may be small, but you look fierce with a weapon. Must be a Stark thing.”

“Oh, Mya!” Sansa exclaimed, near tears. “I didn’t know what was going on – well, I do, but – I was so scared for you!” She pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “You’re the only one I care about here.”

Mya’s trademark smirk came back. “I’m tougher than I look. Besides, I had a, ah, trick up my sleeve.”

“Trick?”

“Let’s just say it’s in my blood,” Mya replied. She grasped Sansa’s hands; and despite not being gloved, her hands were warm. “Much has changed in the past few days, but please know this: not only are you my friend, but I will always be loyal to you. Everything I’ve done this past year, I’ve done for you, my lady.”

Sansa could not hide the confusion she felt. “What are you going on about, Mya? I’ve never heard you speak like this.”

“Everything is happening so fast, I know, but you’ll understand soon enough.” Mya let go of her and backed out of the room. “If you could dress, my lady, there is something that would very much like to meet you.”

Sansa stepped forward. “Mya I don’t–” She halted. Her whole body began to vibrate with nervous energy. “Is it him?”

Mya only smiled and pulled the door shut. Sansa began to dress quickly, flying around the room. Her hands shook with each button. She wondered where Petyr was and found that she was not afraid at the thought of him. How long had it been since she hadn’t been the slightest bit afraid? By the time she was finished getting ready, she was out of breath. A part of her knew what was happening, but she found it difficult to believe it. When she walked out of this door, would she finally be free?

Would she even be able to recognize the taste of freedom after so long?

When Sansa opened the door, Mya was waiting for her, standing guard like a knight. Sansa took hold of the older girl’s arm and they began to walk together in silence. Sansa had so many questions, but found that she could not ask them. Later, she decided, later when it was just the two of them and no pretenses, she would pepper Mya with all sorts of questions. When they finally reached the High Hall, they stopped and looked up at the large doors.

“It’s funny,” Mya said quietly. “When you first came here, I thought I’d despise you.” She turned to face Sansa, a strange smile on her face. “I’m normally a good judge of character. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Mya, I–”

The dark-haired girl shook her head and pushed one large door open. She held out a hand; and Sansa stepped through the door. What she saw inside made her suck in breath. The court was filled with people she didn’t recognize, knights that did not belong to either the Eyrie or Petyr. All of them were watching her as she carefully made her way through the room. When she glanced back, she saw that Mya was closing the door. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest; and she felt like she could barely breathe. Who were these people and what did they want with her?

“For being locked up in a bedroom for two days, my lady, you look quite well.”

The second time she saw him, Sansa let out a gasp.

Lounging sideways in the seat meant for the Lord Protector, one leg thrown over an armrest and an arm over the back of the chair, was the boy that she had seen riding up to the Bloody Gate. He wore that same confident grin, his black shaggy hair hanging into his bright blue eyes and over his large ears. He looked different now that he wasn’t in his armor. His black clothes were trimmed in yellow, making him look almost regal, if not for the fact that his boots were covered in mud and he was so young.

“Don’t act like such an ass, Edric,” Mya said as she walked to stand next to Sansa.

The boy in the chair, Edric, turned his grin into more of a sheepish one. “My sincerest apologies, Lady Sansa, it has been a long few weeks and I can be a bit testy.”

“A bit rude is more like it,” Mya muttered under her breath.

“How did you know my name?” Sansa demanded.

Edric merely shrugged his shoulders. “Mya told me.”

Sansa glanced over to Mya, who looked back at her with such an earnest expression. She remembered what the other girl had said, how everything she had done in the past year had been for Sansa. When Mya looked away, it was not out of shame. In some way, Sansa knew what Mya had done, but it was even harder to believe than everything else. The Eyrie was impregnable – as long as there wasn’t someone on the inside chipping away at it.

“And what of Lord Petyr Baelish?”

“Littlefinger?” Edric swung his leg down, his feet hitting the floor with a clap, and stood up. “He’s having a little time to himself so he can think about what he’s done” – he smirked again – “in the sky cells.”

A few years ago, she would’ve been scared that it was her turn to be thrown into the sky cells. It was what Joffrey would have done. He would’ve found it humorous to even just torture her with the thought of it. Perhaps the Queen wouldn’t have allowed it, but she could picture him holding her there and then offering the Moon Door in its place. She thought of her Aunt Lysa, who had nearly thrown her into the Moon Door when she was three and ten. Sansa glanced at it now, unable to stop herself, but when she looked back to Edric, there was a frown in place of his smile.

“You do not think I would hurt you, do you?” he asked.

“You brought an army the Vale and took the Eyrie, something that no one in history has ever done,” Sansa pointed out. “What kind of person does that?”

“A brave, powerful, and confident one,” Edric told her.

“And a stupid one,” Mya added.

Edric shot her a glare. “Quiet. Just because you’re my sister does mean that you can get away with speaking to me like that.”

“I’m your older sister,” Mya replied, waving a hand in the air. “I may say what I wish to you.”

“Sister? But I thought-” Sansa’s eyes widened. “Who _are_ you exactly?”

“My name is Edric Storm,” the boy told her, “son of the late King Robert Baratheon.” He folded his arms across his chest. “And I’ve come to free the Vale from Lannister claws – and free you as well, Sansa Stark. If we’re going to win this war, then we’re going to need the North on our side.”

Sansa felt something fall heavy in her chest. The war – that had belonged to Robb and look where it had gotten him. He had died, along with their mother and so many of their fellow Northmen, at the Red Wedding. There hadn’t been war in so long. She’d heard talk of battles in the North between Stannis Baratheon and Roose Bolton and wildlings, but no real news ever came to the Vale. The only news she ever heard of about the world outside the Vale came from Mya and Petyr and it was always skewed.

“I’ve heard nothing about you,” Sansa said.

Edric looked to his older sister, making Sansa look to her as well. Mya looked somewhat uncomfortable. “I did not think it wise to tell you,” she confessed. “I trust you, Sansa, but I feared that Lord Baelish might be able to sense something and pry it out of you if you knew. I thought the less you knew, the better.”

“How long have you two been plotting this?” Sansa demanded, taking a step back away from Mya. It felt so strange and confusing. She had told Mya everything, only to find out that Mya had been plotting a takeover for who knew how long.

“About a year,” Edric answered. “Breaking into a place like this takes a lot of time and planning. I’d pretend to be a sellsword that wanted to be hired for a job and Mya was my contact. It was more difficult getting her trust than expected.”

“All those times you went to the Gate of the Moon…” Sansa shook her head. “I thought you were going to see Harry!”

Edric blew a raspberry. “That lummox? The one that you said Lord Baelish was planning on marrying Sansa off to? You were sweet on him, Mya?”

Mya sneered and folded her arms across her chest, mirroring her brother, but said nothing. Edric walked down the steps towards the two girls. He was taller than her, taller than Mya. The closer he got, the more she realized just how much like his father he looked. The only thing that separated him from a younger version of his father was his ears that he had to have gotten from his mother. She also realized that he looked a lot like Mya.

“So will you help us?” Edric asked her once he stood before her.

Sansa narrowed her eyes. “Who exactly would I be helping?”

“The one true king,” Edric proclaimed, “Stannis Baratheon.” He winked at her. “In return for your help, the North will be returned to you. So what do you say? How does revenge sound to you?”

After looking from Mya to Edric, Sansa glanced down at her own hands. She felt her hair, which was dyed dark brown and masked her red Tully hair that she’d inherited from her mother. Robb had had the same hair as her, along with Rickon and Bran. They’d all looked so much like their mother. And then there was Arya, who was gone and most likely dead. She’d looked like their father. She thought of Winterfell, burned after Theon Greyjoy had sacked it, and now it was being fought over by Bolton, the same man that had betrayed her brother. And she thought of Cersei Lannister, sitting behind her youngest son on the Throne, and her smiling face and sweet words, telling her how best to betray her father.

Sansa looked up at Edric. “What do I need to do?”

 


End file.
